Going Home

 On the morning of his eighteenth birthday, Paul MacKenzie awoke with the firm decision that this would be the last time he opened his eyes in the crowded, makeshift bedroom that doubled as the attic in his stepfather's house.  He grabbed the worn and faded blue duffel bag with gray straps that he used on an eighth-grade camping trip and filled it up with the few possessions he had left, which constituted of nothing more than old jeans and worn t-shirts with socks that were mercifully being held together by the grace of god alone.  

He walked through the labyrinth of old or broken discarded furniture pieces that his stepfather had cruelly filled the attic with instead of disposing of until he reached his intended target: an old mattress that had been left leaning against a wall where he once hung a map of the world. Paul reached into a subtle cut he had made on the lumpy cushion, feeling around until he was able to feel an envelope he had hidden inside.

The contents of the envelope were his most valued possessions; the only cash that he had been able to hide from the wicked man that demanded every penny he earned these past five years as a form of gratitude for providing a roof over his head and an old photograph.

Paul looked inside the flimsy white envelope to make sure all the money was accounted for as well as the last remaining picture of his deceased father; the only one his stepfather hadn't destroyed or deleted out of drunken jealousy through the years.

Paul stuffed the enveloped in the duffel bag and looked in the mirror of his mother's old vanity to brush his short black hair, however, when he looked at the reflection of a sad young man, even with the lights off, he could still see the swollen, purple eye he had gotten last night when his stepfather punched him.

Paul decided then and there that he wouldn't stay a moment longer than necessary.

He grabbed the duffel bag from the old twin mattress laying on the floor, decidedly marching out of the attic and down the stairs forever.

The day was just beginning, sunlight hadn't yet illuminated the home with much glow. Everything was still muted and gray. He made his way down to the second-floor stairs and once he was on the main floor, he headed into the kitchen.

Even now, as he was leaving, nature compelled him to leave through the kitchen door instead of the grand front entrance. All these years of being forced to use the "servants entrance" had been engrained within him that it was now second nature.

As he turned to the kitchen, he noticed the light was turned on and instinctively knew his mother would be waiting for him there. He held on to his breath hoping she had changed his mind and would be coming with him.

He rushed to the kitchen but as soon as he stepped into the room, he immediately realized he had been a fool to hope.

Ellen Worthington stood as soon as she saw him. Tears began running down her face which she wiped off with the sleeve of her pink bathrobe.

"I don't know why, I thought you weren't serious about leaving." She whispered.

Paul stared at his mother unemotionally.

With the light on, there was no hiding the fact that her husband had put his hands on him the day before. That was something he started doing the day Paul turned thirteen. Something his mother was too afraid to stop because her husband had served in the military along with a few of Apple Bay's law enforcement officers.

Paul tightened his grip on the gray duffel bag straps. "I have to go. The bus is leaving soon." He lied. He had no idea, not a plan as to where he was going or what he would do. He figured he would decide as soon as he got to the bus station. Cost was everything as he knew the cash he had painstakingly saved for the past five years would be gone quickly.

He took a step towards the door coming to a halt quickly. He knew he would regret it if he didn't try one last time. "Are you sure you won't come with me?" He asked his mother, his voice breaking.

Ellen Worthington engulfed her son in her arms. She began to sob.

"My son," she cried. "My little boy. I can't." She whispered through new tears. "I can't take your sister away from him."

He felt the moisture of her tears stinging against his cheek. Even if his heart was breaking, he kept his hands at his side.

"Mom, I have to go." He repeated.

Ellen gave him one last hug before slowly moving away. She walked over to the cabinets, pulling a small canister of coffee from one of the shelves. She slowly closed the door with a sniffle.

Paul's mother walked to him, holding on to the canister as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

"All the money he ever took from you," Ellen whispered. "I took it from our bank account when he was sleeping off a bender." She stretched out her arms, offering him the small container. "And a little extra."

Paul stared at the canister, and back at his mother.

Tears poured from her eyes furiously. "You know I don't want you to leave, but I cannot ask you to stay anymore." She grabbed his arm, pushing her curated piggy bank into his grasp. "Take it as payment for not being the mother you deserved."

With those words, Paul shoved the canister in with the rest of his belongings and hurried out of the house.

When he got to the bus station, he asked for a one-way ticket on the first bus leaving Apple Bay; he didn't pay attention to the destination. He didn't care where the bus was going as long as it was away from here.

At seven-thirty in the morning, the bus was boarded and it began pulling out of the station. Paul stared out the window looking at his idyllic Apple Bay for the last time. Each home he passed, each business, each tree, each person- all held memories for him, good and bad.

For the sake of the love he had for his beloved Apple Bay, Paul knew he had to get away before his bitterness grew too strong and overshadowed all the good feelings he had.

As the bus passed his neighborhood, he noticed a small familiar frame walking in the direction of his home holding a cake container in front of her displaying a homemade cake with blue frosting.

Without realizing it, Paul smiled affectionately at his little sister's best friend. Serena Ellison was the only one that never forgot his birthday.

He sighed heavily, lamenting the bond he was breaking with her by leaving.

He would miss Serena Ellison most of all as she had been his own personal angel all these years.